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and a few inches of hemp bondage rope. Felt-tips are my dirty secret. I’m a parasite on the performers, hijacking their energy. Te performance is a hectic blend of emotion and


technique. Just as a top-scoring figure-skater’s blades must leave a perfect trace on the ice, so the red herringbone rope- marks should be in alignment on the skin. I’m reminded of General Peckem in Catch-22, who doesn’t care if the bombs hit their intended target as long as they make good patterns on the aerial photographs. Tere’s a split-second assessment of the body’s shiſting


centre of gravity as it is tilted and spun. Te rigger’s dexterity turns the rope bottom into a helpless, entranced mass, stoic, trembling, whining, yelping. Spatchcocked. But who is really dominant? Te model fakes being passive. Otherwise his or her spine might snap. Te rigger fakes control but is in subtle communion with the model, depending on touches, breaths, glances. People who both tie and are tied say that true dominance lies with the model. A model can choose from degrees of feeling. At the blunt


end is going into a sub zone, a helpless purry golden trance, on the floor or in a hammock-like suspension, with restraint but no pain. Ten pain itself: being suspended and contorted – body origami – while a limb turns purple on the wrong side of a near-tourniquet. Te performers seem to be addicted to the huge slugs of chemicals delivered to their bodies by a pantechnicon of hurt. Before a session they are brisk and


There’s a split-second assessment of the body’s shifting centre of gravity as it is tilted and spun. The rigger’s dexterity turns the rope bottom into a helpless, entranced mass, stoic, trembling, whining, yelping


animated; during, they may be flinching and sobbing. Some riggers use accessories such as circus whips; as for the hot wax dripped on the body, these are special candles with a low melting point, but even so… Aſterwards, the models are bouncy, gleaming, charged,


demonstrative, glowing with the praise they are receiving. But when you ask bondage models how they can bear the torment, you get a bland or a blank look and a refractive answer: ‘You eroticise the pain.’ Tat’s a matter for the performer. But for the onlooker, is it porn or art or erotic? Yes. No. Shrug. It all depends on you. Draw draw draw. I’m dazzled by the spotlight but


my paper is in semi-darkness. Damn, this pen’s stopped working. Scrabble around for another. Next to me on the sofa a Japanese girl, hopelessly abandoned to the performance, is weeping.


The Amorist May 2017 11


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